


The Heart of Hidden Things

by Wapwani



Category: Last Tango In Halifax
Genre: F/F, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:10:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2782673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wapwani/pseuds/Wapwani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've conceived this as a work in progress, although you could read the first chapter as a stand alone. </p><p>Chapter 1 (and if there is a chapter 2) is set pre-series 1, and is an exercise in trying to answer 'how did they get here from there?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Title note: from a Charlotte Mew poem, 'The Changeling'. Not really related to this story, other than in the tone I guess, of being an outsider and different and trying to find your place.
> 
> I'm really not sure how far into the canon material I will go with this story. We shall see. It does start out pre-relationship, but I do like them together, so will probably write them as a couple if I can! :D

 

A truth about Kate McKenzie which she rarely acknowledged publicly was that she found powerful women very attractive. Perhaps 'attractive' was too strong a word. She found them appealing; she was drawn to them like magnets, she would follow where they led with little question or complaint. Perhaps all this was true because she was also a little afraid of them.

Oh who are we kidding. Kate McKenzie specifically found Caroline Elliot appealing and also attractive. The woman had a pull on her like a flame drew a moth. Kate was quite happy to dance to whatever tune the Headteacher played. Other teachers at Sulgrave Heath found Ms Elliot intimidating and said so; complained about her incredibly strong work ethic, and how she automatically assumed that just because she carried an insane work load and held herself to incredibly high professional standards, everyone else at school would do the same. It didn't help in the  _least_  that the woman was even handed and not easily intimidated by the Board of Governors or inspection bodies, and so Sulgrave Heath ran like a well-oiled clock, ticking its way through year after year and form after form of students who achieved well and went on to do good, if not great, things. It was hard to have a boss who was both tough and fair; it made your whinging and complaining seem a little small-minded. But a lot of the staff managed to get their digs in anyway. Many of them had found themselves on the cold end of Caroline's regard or the sharp side of her sarcastic tongue. She wasn't warm and fuzzy, even when she was doing right by you. This did not win her much popularity amongst her staff. They respected her, feared her a little, and for the most part would do their jobs almost as well as she expected of them. But they did not  _like_  her. She was not someone they thought kindly of, if they thought of her at all.  

Not Kate McKenzie though. Kate McKenzie found herself thinking quite often of Caroline Elliot. She thought about her as she made her lesson plans, ('I wonder if Caroline would appreciate these punny French riddles?'), as she dressed for work in her sensible flats ('How on earth does Caroline manage to not twist her ankle every 5 minutes in those heels?'), as she made weekend plans ('I think Caroline would've enjoyed this play.'). But even though she thought about her all the time, Kate wasn't foolish enough to try to pursue her thoughts beyond the 'what if' stage ('What if I asked Caroline to go with me the next time I'm going to the theatre?'). She was aware that Caroline lived her life in the rarified air of power and control, and Kate was just another of her subjects. If she had ever broached the subject to Caroline, she was quite sure she'd be met with politeness - Caroline would never be cruel or laugh - but also with aloofness. Caroline did not  _need_  the adoration of her subjects. Their respect was enough.  

The only other person at school who may have understood Kate's dilemma was Beverly, Caroline's secretary. It was obvious to Kate that Beverly was a kindred soul, in the sense that she watched over Caroline nearly as much as Kate did. Probably more, as by virtue of her position she saw the headteacher more than anyone else. Sometimes, when Kate would pop into the office to collect cover notes or drop off test papers, she and Beverly would talk. It was relatively easy to get Beverly talking about Caroline as long as you didn't ask for details about her personal life. Beverly was quite happy to tell Kate how stressed Caroline was about inspection visits, how late Caroline worked last night, how she so looked forward to her 11:00am cup of tea with a furtive digestive biscuit. Early on, Kate had been a bit jealous of Beverly and her inside track to Caroline's life. But then she realised that Beverly's relationship to Caroline was strongly reminiscent of a butler's to the lord of the manor, a batman to her officer. Beverly saw herself as the buffer between Caroline and the minor stresses of the world which would otherwise wear her down too much for her to function at maximum effectiveness. Once Kate had got that worked out, she discovered she was grateful for Beverly's dedication, and developed a quiet fondness for the woman, even though she would never tell her why.

Kate was quite sure she would have continued this way indefinitely, admiring Caroline from afar, her attraction relegated to an intellectual exercise peppered with a few squirmingly uncomfortable moments of physical desire when Caroline went off on a tear during a staff meeting or spoke particularly passionately at assembly. But then, she had seen Caroline sitting in her car in the rain, and everything had changed.

Kate knew Caroline's two boys of course, and knew how much of Caroline she saw in them. She had taught William French in his fourth year, and it was easy to see his mother's intellect in his work, and her gentleness in his demeanour. Caroline's confidence and easy physicality however had obviously favoured Lawrence. Although dissimilar in so many ways, both boys were open and honest; they didn't have to say what was on their minds (even though Lawrence often did) as you could simply read the looks on their faces. So even though she wasn't teaching them now, Kate could tell that they were hurting. William had buried himself even deeper in his books, and his big fawn-like eyes often seemed on the verge of spilling over. Lawrence flung himself even harder into his sporting pursuits, and while his grades didn't slip any further, Kate had heard the scuttlebutt in the staffroom, and knew that something was causing Lawrence to be even more distracted than usual. She didn't want to pry, but before long, the staffroom gossipers had the story - Caroline's author husband John had run off and shacked up with a younger woman! The story was repeated in hushed voices and thankfully without too many cruel jokes. There was very little sympathy for Caroline though. Most people assumed that John had done himself a favour really.

Kate's heart ached for Caroline. She realised what probably only Beverly was aware of - that if her sons were reacting the way they were, Caroline herself must be going through something similar. Caroline had however chosen to shield herself behind her mask of stern aloofness, and Kate had just about decided that perhaps the headteacher was okay, when the car in the rain incident happened.

Somewhat typically, the morning had started out glorious and sunny, but by the time she had pulled into her parking space outside the school, the heavens had opened up and were dumping sheets of rain down on the Yorkshire countryside. Kate had got out of the car, juggling her pile of marking, briefcase that contained mostly her lunch and a few extra music sheets she'd need for afterschool, and a wobbly umbrella which despite appearances did actually keep her dry. As she'd been locking up, she automatically glanced over to where Caroline regularly parked, virtually at the front door. Yes the Jeep was there. But something wasn't right. There was still someone sitting in the driver's seat. That was unusual. Usually as soon as Caroline pulled up, the boys would hop out, waving goodbyes. The headteacher would follow more sedately a few moments later. Today however, Caroline was still in the car. Kate argued with herself as she did that sort of hopping run people do in the rain, shoulders hunched over and head ducked down under the umbrella. 'She's fine. She's probably on the phone. Leave it be Kate'. 

Ignoring her own good advice, Kate stopped at Caroline's window. She was sat slightly hunched over, staring at her empty hands. This was so far from being fine, that Kate knocked tentatively at the rain-swept window. Caroline looked up, her face blank, then slightly quizzical as recognition dawned. She lowered the window a few inches, but still didn't speak.

"Umm." Kate started hesitantly "Caroline, are you..are you ok? Can I bring you something? Get someone?"

"Such as?"

"Oh. Umm. Beverly? A cup of tea?"

"Your workbooks are getting soaked." Said in a matter of fact voice, like they weren't having a directionless conversation in the pouring rain.

"Oh. Yes." Kate didn't move. "So, are you?"

"Am I what?" 

"Ok."

"Oh. Not really."

Finally. She had a direction to go in. "Would you like to talk?"

"To whom?"

"Umm. Me? I'm a .. I'm a good listener, Caroline."

A smile. An actual smile. Faint and hesitant, but still, she'd take it any day over that blank pained look Caroline had worn until then. 

"Are you really? And do you want to?"

"What?"

"Listen to me."

"Oh,  _yes_." Oh, that was too eager. "I mean, if you'd like. I'd like to help. If I can. I mean - it seems like you could use a...a..friend? Right now."

"And you could stand getting in the dry." But not said in an unkind way. Not dismissive. Kate stood back to allow Caroline to get out of her car, and partially sheltered her as they covered the final few feet into the school. In this moment, where she was terrified of what Caroline's reaction would be, she fixated on her wet workbooks. Thank goodness no child used fountain pens anymore. That would have left an unrecoverable mess. 

When they got to the foot of the stairs, she turned and faced Caroline, unconsciously squaring her shoulders. "I meant what I said."

"Good. Would you like a coffee? After work."

 

 

 


	2. The Opening of Boxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate's trying to be a good friend to a mildly depressed Caroline. A bit angstier than I thought this'd go, but I reckon pre-episode 1 Caroline was in a pretty dark place.

Caroline wasn't entirely sure what had possessed her to accept Kate's invitation to chat. She'd been going through a pretty rough patch just now, and that morning had been particularly difficult. Lawrence had asked her, if John and Judith became a permanent item, then "do I have to call her mum?" That question had brought Caroline up short. She hadn't considered this particular ramification of John's indiscretion. She had been so focused on getting used to the betrayal, and adjusting her life to fit around the blip of her husband's mistress, she'd never even considered that her sons may be thinking of Judith as a potential maternal figure. The thought had filled her with so much ineffectual rage that she had to stay in the car when she'd parked at school, clenching her fists to keep from beating them against the steering wheel. Then, as the rage had ebbed, followed sadness. Caroline was not accustomed to failing. Failure was for the weak and underprepared. And John's dalliance was forcing her to consider the possibility that she had failed as a wife. All things considered, she much preferred to feel rage. At least that was something sharp and bright edged. Not the dull, dragging heaviness that sadness brought with it. Caroline was becoming all too familiar with that sensation; the weight of failure. If she had known what had caused this failure, she may have had a chance at fighting back. But John, for all his vocabulary and ability to spin words, had only been able to say that Judith made him "feel alive" - in a way that Caroline either never had, or had ceased being able to do so.

So perhaps it wasn't so surprising then, that when Kate McKenzie came knocking at her window, hero-worship barely restrained in her gaze and manner, something in the depth of Caroline's soul had risen to meet her. Kate's offer of friendship was a balm that soothed the sting of being left, and her obvious admiration was a boost for a bruised ego. If Caroline had been more her normal self, she would have had the grace to be ashamed of the selfishness of her motivation. But as it stood, her state of mind permitted her only one response; that of a drowning soul grasping at a lifeline.

That first coffee was an awkward affair. Caroline was too wrapped up in her own misery to make any kind of conversation, and Kate was too worried about offending Caroline to make any kind of headway towards finding out what was on the other woman's mind. So they sat in strained silence, slowly-cooling cups of caffeinated beverages before them, with Kate making desultory comments about the weather ("thank goodness it's stopped raining.") and work ("Year 9 would all benefit from a summer in a Russian gulag.") That comment was a desperate attempt to make Caroline smile. All she got was a distracted "Hmm. They are a handful."  

When Caroline got to the bottom of her cup, Kate decided that she was going to chalk this one up to experience. At least she'd tried. 50 years from now, when she was looking back at the lost opportunities of her life, she would be able to say "but at least I tried to ask Caroline Elliot out." Kate gathered up her coat and umbrella and started to say her goodbyes.

"Oh. Are we done?" Caroline sounded surprised.

"You seem ... tired" Kate responded diplomatically. "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea?"

 "Not tired" Caroline mumbled "I thought you wanted to listen?"

"I do! But you have to say something first Caroline!" This spark of admonishment seemed to reach Caroline where deference had failed.

"Fine. What would you like to hear? About how my husband has decided he'd rather live in squalor with some bimbo librarian than with me, or how my sons are contemplating thinking of this woman as ' _mum_ '?" She spat the final word out on an exhalation of vitriol.

"Oh Caroline, I'm so sorry. That must hurt. But I'm sure the boys would never think of her as able to replace you."

It was an educated shot in the dark, but it hit its mark.

"They'd better bloody not." Caroline huffed, but the edge of her anger had dulled, soothed by Kate's reassurance. She looked at Kate with a sudden appreciation that warmed Kate's heart. "Look, it is getting on a bit. I should head home, but ... would you like to do this again?"

Kate surprised herself by not immediately responding in the affirmative. "If you'd like." She wanted to be sure that this was something Caroline wanted, that she chose this for herself. Caroline looked as surprised as Kate felt when she said "I would. I would like that very much."

And so began a rather odd little relationship, where Kate met Caroline once or twice a week, depending on how low Caroline was feeling. After her initial reticence was broken, the floodgates were opened, and Caroline did most of the talking. She talked about her sons and the hopes and fears she harboured for them. She talked about her mother, and their prickly relationship. She talked about her father's many indiscretions, and how she worried that she was proving to be embarrassingly Freudian in marrying a man so similar to him. She talked very little about herself, about her own fears and hopes and sorrows. True to her word, Kate listened. She asked the right questions at the right time. She offered the acceptable amount of commiserations and support. She kept everything Caroline told her scrupulously confidential. And in all that time, she waited patiently for Caroline to see her as something more than a comforting sounding board; to notice that she was a woman with feelings, fears and hopes of her own.

But the Caroline of the unfaithful husband, the Caroline who feared herself a failure, this was not the Caroline who would notice the vulnerability and humanity of another. A lesson that Caroline had learned early and learned well was to compartmentalise. She kept the various aspects of her life in clearly demarcated boxes, and allowed very little overlap. So when she dipped into the headteacher box, she was able to be confident and in-charge, to continue to govern her domain with an iron hand in a silk glove, even as the Caroline in the 'wife and mother' box was slowly sinking deeper into despair. When she was with Kate, the box she drew from was the needy box of self-preservation; this Caroline did lots of taking, and gave very little if at all. This Caroline needed to be shocked into seeing beyond the blinkers of her own pain.

One afternoon, she was late to their regular meeting spot, a quaint little coffee shop with comfortable seating and chatty baristas. When she walked into the cafe today, she noticed that one particular barista - a younger woman with a cheery smile and flaming red hair - was paying special attention to the waiting Kate. Caroline stilled in the doorway as she realised the woman was flirting with her ... her what? Her friend? Why was this a problem?

She felt a glimmer of her bolder self emerge suddenly, and she stalked over to where Kate stood at the counter, making small talk and laughing. She placed her hand on her elbow, unconsciously possessive. "Oh hello. Sorry I'm late", her voice pitched cheerful and energised. She gave the barista a dismissive glance. 

"No problem", Kate responded, the laughter still in her voice. "I've got the coffees in."

"Wonderful", yet more false high-pitched cheerfulness. "Shall we?" Steering Kate away from the barista with no further acknowledgement. The woman behind the counter grinned ruefully and gave a little shrug as if to say 'well, you can't blame a girl for trying.' 

 When they had settled into their seats, Caroline said "Did that not bother you?" She flicked a glance back at the barista. "That she assumed ..."

"What? That I'm available?"

"No - that you'd be interested. In women."

"But I am. Interested. In women."

"Oh." A delicate eyebrow arched in surprise. "Right. I just thought...I mean, you were married. To a man."

"I was. Doesn't mean I'm not interested in women too."

"Right."

"Is this going to be a problem Caroline?" Kate asked, her voice hardening. "Because I'll tell you now; I will forgive you many things, but not that."

A short burst of semi-hysterical laughter bubbled out of Caroline. An old box, one she had thought sealed shut and buried long ago, had started creaking open. "No. No. No. Believe me, I have no problem with it." After a contemplative pause, "Is that why the divorce?"

"No. The divorce was because my husband was a jerk."

"Right. So did you never, I mean have you ever..." her voice trailed off.

Kate smiled wistfully. "There have been a few women, yes. But only one I was really interested in. When I was going for my MA. Made me swear off women for a bit, to be honest."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. She decided she'd was better off without me. It wasn't a happy time."

"Well," Caroline said decisively. "She was an idiot. Anyone with half a brain would be able to see how wonderful you are.  _You're_  better off without  _her_."

That heartfelt acknowledgement was so unexpected coming from the Caroline that Kate had grown accustomed to in the past few weeks, that it rocked her back in her chair. Kate found herself floundering yet again in the deep waters of attraction and appeal. She wanted to have so much more of this Caroline. And so she resolved in that moment that if it killed her, she was going to get Caroline Elliot to at least kiss her. 


	3. I'll Answer When You Speak To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline starts opening up to Kate, and the possibilities she offers.
> 
> Bit different in tone than the others. Humour is hard though!

 

 

 

Caroline sat at her desk, reading over some meeting notes. She finally realised that she'd read the same line three times over, and pushed back from her desk, muttering angrily to herself. Raising her eyes from her computer screen, she saw Beverly hovering in the doorway, waiting to be noticed. "Yes?" The question came out harsher than she'd intended, and she saw Beverly flinch. "Sorry, Beverly. Just - I'm a little distracted this morning."

Beverly did not point out that it was well after noon. "You have that meeting, Caroline. With the cafeteria manager? You're sampling the new menus with the health committee."

"That's not until 12:30, is it?" She glanced down at her wristwatch, eyebrow arching in surprise as she noticed the time. "Oh. Right, well, I'd best dash then, hadn't I."

"Caroline," Beverly said hesitantly as the headteacher rose to her feet and strode for the door, "I was wondering, do you need me to schedule another meeting with Kate McKenzie?"

Only someone finely attuned to Caroline's rhythms would have noticed the slight stutter in her steps. "Why do you ask?"

"Kate's popped her head in the office a few times today, and I was wondering if - " Beverly found herself scurrying to keep up with Caroline's sudden turn of speed.

"Right. Yes. I mean, no. No need for a meeting. I'll - it's fine Beverly. I'll sort it out, right?"

"Yes Caroline." 

 

Thankfully the rest of her schedule was so filled with tasks that needed her undivided attention, that it was late afternoon before Caroline was alone at her desk again, with time to think about the problem of Kate McKenzie. 

Kate McKenzie, with her kind eyes and ready smile and gentleness and seemingly endless capacity for patience, was wreaking merry havoc with Caroline's carefully structured system of boxes. Kate would not stay in the box of 'friend', nor would she stay in the box of 'only a member of staff', and she certainly wasn't staying in the box of 'someone I can not think about for extended periods of time'. 

Ever since the revelation of her binary sexual preference, made so blithely it still took Caroline's breath away to think about it, the woman had popped unbidden into her mind at the most inopportune moments. At breakfast when pouring her single cup of coffee, in the car when talking to William about his exam preparations for French, when reading (admittedly boring) notes about staffing for next year. It had been three days since they'd last talked, and most of Caroline wasn't sure if she dared arrange another meeting. A small part of her though, the part that noticed that in these three days she had been thinking much less about John or his betrayal, kept nudging at her to see Kate again. 

She sat glaring at the draft of an email message on her screen, looked at her watch, and firmly hit the delete button. Then she sat glaring angrily at the text app on her phone, hurriedly jabbed out _'Coffee?'_ and hit send before she could change her mind. She sat staring at her phone for a few minutes longer, then smiled self-deprecatingly, put her phone down, and started shutting down her computer and collecting her belongings. It was unfair to expect Kate to be waiting for her to contact her, unrealistic to expect an immediate response. There was a knock at her office door, and she glanced up expecting to see Beverly, and ready to tell her secretary that she should have gone home long ago. Instead, there stood Kate McKenzie, a quiet smile on her face.

"You're working late."

Caroline felt her face blossom into a smile. "Could say the same for you."

"Practice for the musical - I'm helping out."

"Oh. Right....Did you, umm, get my text?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

Kate's smile widened. "I'm here, aren't I?"

 

Caroline was relieved to see the red-headed barista wasn't working this afternoon. She had enough to contend with in her own reactions, she didn't need the added pressure of fending off another woman's advances on Kate's attention. She listened with half a ear as Kate talked about the musical the school's drama department was putting on; she hadn't realised how passionate Kate was about music and she found herself being increasingly impressed by Kate's knowledge and dedication. Not a lot of teachers would be willing to give up so many evenings of their personal time to help out with a production for a department they weren't even part of. Distracted by this train of thought, it took her a while to realise that Kate had asked her a question, and there was now a silence that her answer was expected to fill. 

"Sorry?" she said slightly shamefaced; she wasn't about to tell her companion that she hadn't been paying full attention because she'd been so busy thinking about how special Kate was.

"I asked if you liked the theatre."

"What - like stage musicals?"

"Not necessarily."

"Never been fond of Shakespeare."

Kate laughed in surprise. "Really? But, I mean, it seems so  _you_."

Now it was Caroline's turn to laugh. "Oh no. All those mistaken identities and mix-ups that could've been so easily resolved if you just stopped and  _thought_ about things."

"So, suspension of disbelief in the service of the beauty of language -"

"I studied science, Kate. You can't really suspend disbelief when you're dealing with chemicals that could burn your face off if you weren't paying attention."

"Okay. So no Shakespeare. What about something more modern?"

"Why are you asking?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to go. With me. To a play, or something."

"Oh."

"Not as a  _date_  or anything like that."

"Oh."

"As, you know, friends. I think I need to cut back on the coffee intake a bit." Offered with another quiet smile, to show that she wasn't really asking for an end to the coffee-chat afternoons.

"Oh." Caroline realised she should probably say something more than that. "Right." Not much of improvement really. "I mean, umm, yes, I think I would like to, actually."

"Great! How's this Saturday? There's a revival of _Faust_ _us_ at the Playhouse."

"You said modern!"

"This is a modern interpretation."

"Oh, well, that makes it okay then."  There was enough laughter in her voice to take the sting off the sarcasm. 

"Good, that's settled. I'll pick you up at five o'clock"

"I'm sorry, you'll what?"

"I'll pick you up."

"In _your_ car?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"It's miniature!"

"It is not! It's a sensible size for a town runaround. Besides, have you ever tried to park by the Playhouse on a Saturday night? Your giant monstrosity would take up three spaces!"

"I think you're exaggerating."

"Only slightly!"

Caroline looked at Kate's face, eyes bright and crinkled with laughter, and found that she could not refuse her.  "Oh alright, fine." She said with as much bad grace as she could muster. "Five."

 

They stood outside the theatre, Caroline unusually subdued.

"Was it that bad?" Kate asked gently. She was kicking herself. All the reviews had said what a fine production this was, how thought-provoking. She'd thought Caroline would've loved the intellectual and philosophical elements of the play, and had been looking forward to an involved discussion over drinks and dinner. But now it looked like Caroline had been bored, or worse, displeased, by the play, and Kate wasn't sure how she was going to salvage the evening.

"Interesting choice." Caroline was saying carefully. "Why'd you pick it?"

"Oh," Her ideas about a philosophical discussion seemed suddenly ill-conceived. "I've always liked the story of Faust. The idea that we don't have all the answers I suppose - that there are greater things than are dreamed of in our philosophies."

"Selling your soul to the devil is a greater thing?"

"No - that's not what ... look, Caroline, there's this nice little restaurant just around the corner. They have a _great_ wine list. Would you like to go get something to eat, maybe a glass of wine, and I can try to figure out why I feel like I need to apologise to you for bringing you here tonight?"

"Apologise? No. That's not....Yeah, maybe a glass of wine is just what we need."

Caroline needed to be half way through the second glass before she could say "You really have no need to apologise, but that just hit a little close to home, that's all."

"You never tried to trade your doctorate for magic powers?" Kate was drinking a plain soda water now, as she was driving, but she still felt a little giddy to be sitting opposite Caroline in an intimate setting, with candles on the table and soft music playing gently in the background.

"Hah. No, not that. The idea that we can make bargains - with ourselves, if not with demons - telling ourselves we are doing it for the greater good. And then at some point, the bill comes due."

"No one's going to drag you off to hell Caroline." Kate said fervently.

A wistful smile. "I think I'm doing a pretty good job of that for myself."

"Are you talking about the situation with John?"

"Some. But not entirely." She glanced around the restaurant at the other diners, and drained her glass. "Shall we go?"

It was a quiet walk to the car, Kate not wishing to break whatever spell had Caroline opening up to her.

Once they were strapped in and moving, Caroline started speaking again. Kate glanced over at her, illuminated only by the pale glow of the dash lights, and was struck by how very forlorn she looked.

"When I first went away to Oxford, I was 18. I'd never been that far away from home before, never been around so many people who didn't know me. It was quite liberating. I met someone. A young woman; well, she was a year older than me then, but now when I think of her, I realise she was still so young. A baby really. But she was very sure of herself. Very sure of me."

"So you two were -"

"Oh, I don't know what we were Kate. We were...close I suppose. I'd never felt that way about _any_ one before, so it didn't really matter to me that she was a girl. It mattered to my mother though."

"Ah."

"She wouldn't hear of it."

"Right."

"So I broke it off, and met John, and that was that. Never looked back."

"Never?"

"Not till now."

"Oh."

"Do you ... do you think less of me?"

"Why? Because you had a lesbian experience in your first year? It's not that unusual Caroline."

"No. Because I was a coward." Said in such a small voice, that for a moment Kate was sure she'd misheard.

"You weren't a coward! Those were different times, Caroline. Your situation was different. You did what you had to do to get by."

Caroline looked unconvinced by her words.

"If you'd been born twenty years later," Kate tried again, "You'd have taken over the world by now, and had it covered in rainbows if you wanted."

That raised a smile. "Oh, I don't know about that. Seems a bit ambitious even for me. I'd settle for taking over England."

"I can see that."

"You really are okay with all of this. You don't see me as having let the side down or something?"

"Not in the least."

They drove in companionable silence for the rest of the journey. If asked, Kate would swear she could feel Caroline slowly unfolding in the seat next to her, feel her growing more and more open to possibilities as she got closer to home.

As they neared Caroline's street, Kate decided she was going to risk it.

"This seems to be the night for confessions. Would you mind very much if I made one?"

"Not at all."

A deep breath, and then, "You know how I said I'd sworn off women for a while?"

"Yeah."

"Well, to be honest, I'd still be sworn off them if I hadn't met you."

"Oh."

More silence, until they turned into Caroline's driveway. Kate was miserable. She'd ruined everything. Lost whatever imperfect connection to Caroline she'd had, with likely no hope of ever recovering it.

"So, are you saying," Caroline asked in a quiet voice, as Kate pulled in to park at her doorstep, "that you..."

"Have feelings for you."

"...have feelings for me. Right. Okay."

"Is that a problem?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

"Doesn't have to be. I'm not expecting anything from you Caroline, really. I just ... after all we've shared, I don't think it'd be honest to keep this from you anymore."

"Right." She got out of the car, and Kate followed suit. "I'd ask you in, but it's late."

"And you don't want to have to deal with a crazed crush?"

"You're not, are you?" Caroline laughed despite herself.

"Really Caroline. I'm not expecting anything from you. I'm not expecting this to go anywhere. I'm happy being your friend. If you'll still have me."

Caroline reached across the hood of the car, and grasped Kate's hand. "You really are a very good friend. I'd be an idiot to let your poor taste in women stand in the way of that."

"I do _not_ have poor taste in women!" Kate burst out, affronted and laughing at the same time.

"Yes. Well. Look, will you call me when you get home? Or at least text, so I know you got in okay."

"Worried about me, are you?"

"Well, you are driving a toy car."

"You, Dr Elliot, are incorrigible." Kate huffed, refusing to show Caroline just how relieved she was that they were still talking. "I'm going home now. I will see you in the morning. You can take me to brunch, to apologise for insulting my poor car."

Caroline's joyful laughter rang in her ears as she drove away. 'So many kisses' she muttered under her breath. 'if it's the last thing I _ever_ do!'

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The play Kate took Caroline to is Marlowe's Dr Faustus. Not the most romantic choice for a first non-date. Hopefully Kate has some other ideas for next time!


End file.
